I am a Zamorakian, and a foe of Lucien
by Snowskeeper
Summary: For revenge, for Chaos, and for Zamorak!
1. Chapter 1

**_In a world ruled by Order, Chaos is needed to shake things up a bit, to stop Order from controlling everything. Similarly, in a world ruled by Chaos, Order is needed to keep some sanity to stop the world going insane._**

We stopped and turned as one, ignoring the pounding blood we could all here in our veins, ignoring the drum beats, only focussing on one thing. Locating Lucien. The fool had thought that he could hide his deception from Lord Zamorak, but he was wrong. Call him what you may, but under-cautious Zamorak was not.

The ritual we were performing now was an old one, very secret. It involved the sacrifice of a unicorn and a Demon at the same time, both of them killed by the same arrow. It hadn't been me who shot the arrow, needless to say. I am relatively weak at ranging enemies, only around level 32, which compared to my other combat skills of 50s, and 60s was rather bad.

I, however, had been responsible for the piece of Lucien's hair that now burned between the ashes of the Demon and the corpse of the unicorn, the piece of hair that was now slowly beginning to burn. I felt a map appear in my mind, instantly overcoming the thoughts already there, thoughts of revenge on the traitor and how we were going to deal with the poor, misguided Saradominists along the way.

The map zoomed in on a particular point. It stayed far away from Mortanya, no surprises there. That was the only land that Lord Zamorak owned fully. Then the only thing inside my view was the wilderness, again, not that shocking, Saradominists hated him as much, if not more so, then us, and that was the only other place they didn't fully control.

Finally it settled. He was in the Wilderness Agility Course, the one place there I didn't know much about. I hadn't had a reason to go there yet.

I sighed. "Alright, everyone suit up and prepare for a search-and-destroy mission, if you don't want to come that's fine, but you should still lend support in some way." Everyone nodded, and the ones I knew would stay behind began running to the bank to grab some monkfish to give to those who would be going.

I suppose I should describe myself at this point. My name is Snowskeeper. I generally wear a full suit of armour, but when I'm in my 'casual' clothes, I usually have a black set of princely clothes on, with a white undershirt and deep brown trim. My armour is a rune plate-body, a full helm of the same metal, a set of Dragon plate-legs, gauntlets, and boots, an obsidian shield, and a Dragon Longsword. My skin is dark, and my hair is jet-black and spiked backwards. My eyes are a pure grey.

There, enough bragging for the moment. Lucien was nearly in our grasp, we could almost taste his cries of misery and woe at having betrayed Zamorak, indeed having tried to destroy him (For those who are interested, we don't go out of our ways to destroy most traitors, they generally aren't that important. For example, if someone says that they're going to serve Zamorak but decides not to, then we won't just chase them and kill them. They aren't worth the trouble. But this one was trying to destroy Zamorak, and he might actually have the means to do it. That was bad.)

We had some Vampires (all our Vampyres were too valuable to be spared, many had decided that they just wanted to control Mortanya and nothing else, they would understand the folly of their deed soon enough.), a good deal of Werewolves that were at the moment disguised in their human forms, several Sea Slugs, all attached to human hosts, that would attempt to gain control of Lucien to avoid a conflict, at least fifty lesser Demons, a squad of greater Demons, a Black Demon, and the Evil Chicken. The Evil Chicken and Demons weren't here just yet, they were going to push Lucien out of hiding towards us so that we could kill him.

Joseph walked over to me. He had similar clothes to mine, though his clothes were red instead of black, and his hair was cut carefully to both sides of his head. He had a small moustache, as well. All of this neatness covered the fact that he was a Werewolf and could-and in most cases, would- rip most humans to shreds without a second thought. His accent always reminded me of a place called Russia, but when I thought about this Russia, details always escaped me. I could only remember that it was supposedly almost as cold as where I came from. Then I always ended up trying to think of where I came from, which failed as well.

"Some of our troops have begun hunting humans and small animals. It is not safe having so many troops outside of the border. They do not yet know that we have removed the wards on the River Salve, and if they find us Wolfbane and silver will almost certainly come. Also," he said, in an even more grave tone, "if they find out that we are coming, and that Vampires, only found in the haunted forests of Mortanya, and Werewolves, only found around Canifis, have escaped, they will almost surely check the River Salve. We cannot afford this, comrade." I sighed.

"Alright." I took out some Mind Runes, which were sitting next to a set of Dark Mystic robes and a Staff of Iban, retrieved from the stubborn fool after he had refused me passage into the lands beyond the pass, and used them to send a message to all surrounding me.

"Any found hunting in this area are jeopardising the mission with the possibility of being spotted. The Vampires have training moving from tree to tree, keeping hidden, the Sea Slugs can possess humans, and the Werewolves have the ability to assume human form. This is why you were chosen for this mission, not for savagery or brute strength or anything else. For cunning were you chosen, and I haven't seen a whole lot of that from you cretins at this time. So get your minds off of your stomachs and let's get back to work!" That last bit was practically a mind shout, so loud I was sure that everyone the area must have heard it.

Some of them seemed about to reply, then thought better of it, others simply nodded their heads. All in all, it was a rather successful speech, considering that most of the werewolves could easily tear me apart. The Vampires had a reason to listen to me though, they were weaklings compared to myself and my friend, Joseph.

Finally, we crossed the Wilderness Border. "Don't relax; this is out of one danger and into another. Zaros was here at one time, and his taint never fully leaves anywhere." There was a nearly universal nod at that, and one mumbled prayer from an adventurer. He gained temporary protection, then he dismissed the prayer.

We passed the ZMI operative, known simply as the Zamorak Mage, nodding to him as we passed. He would have been a valuable operative, but he was far too valuable to waste on a dangerous mission against a traitor such as Lucien. If we lost him, we would lose our last remaining link to the abyss, and instability would follow, possibly releasing Zaros. This, needless to say, would be bad.

We passed only one Saradominist, who we slaughtered when he began running back to Edgeville to tell someone, knowing full well he would simply reappear in Lumbridge, and several Zamorakians, who either said hello cheerfully or joined our small campaign. I could already feel the anticipation that comes with the end of the hunt. Joseph had taught me how to hunt like a Werewolf, using magic to temporarily increase my sense of smell and following the signs left by prey in the wild. I have to say, I can understand why Werewolves gained such a disdain of humans. Not only are they clumsy and weak, but the Saradominists, who are a largely human force, forced them out of Runescape Proper, and into the dark, dank, swamp-infested Mortanya. I would be angry too.

I checked my map, carefully aligning my compass with the map and turning until it pointed north. Just passed the gate and the Hellhounds, which might join us depending on Lord Zamorak's mood, and we would be in position.

Silently we settled down, waiting for the inevitable. Then, it came.

"Flee from me, Lucien!" The fierce, bone-chilling cry came out. Most of us were surprised that the Evil Chicken had decided to work with us at all. Especially since he referred to humans, Werewolves, Vampires, and even the gods as "Those beakless fools!" I really didn't understand his motives. And, to be honest, I didn't really care. He was extremely powerful, and he was on our side. That was all I needed to know.

Suddenly, a hooded figure rushed out of the Wilderness, clutching a staff in one hand and a walking cane in the other, and limping along at a speed that would put a sprinting Werewolf to shame. Suddenly, he stopped.

"You, you would betray Lord Zamorak? You come here today to assassinate one of his most trusted servants? You fools! Lord Zamorak will smite you where you stand!" He actually seemed to believe his words too, but when no bolts of blood-red lighting fell from the sky, no pale maggot infested hands reached up from the earth to pull us down to where they lay, no cuddly rabbits charged out of the night to hug us, he began to falter. "Why has Lord Zamorak abandoned me?"

"He does not abandon those who do not abandon him first." I snarled, and charged, a fierce battlecry that I had never heard before in this land but seemed natural on my tongue ripping forth like the first winds of a hurricane.

_**"WAAAAAAAAAAGH!"**_

Instantly, all of my soldiers took up the cry, and we all rushed Lucien at the same time.

As I reached him, my strike was calmly intercepted and deflected, and I was sent sprawling into the mud by a smack from his cane to my legs. He then began firing wave after wave of spells into my army. With horror, I watched as the Vampire horde we had brought and the adventurers were gobbled up by the deadly spells. I watched with hope as the sea slugs, at home in the mud and filth, snuck around to attempt to latch to Lucien's neck, only to be disappointed as the creatures were simply stamped into the ground. I tried to stand up, but Lucien simply smacked his staff into my legs again, not even wasting a spell on me. I was that insignificant to him. This time, my legs broke. Then I saw his next target. Joseph.

"No!" came a strangled cry from me, and I tried to get up, to jump in front of my friend, but there was no chance of that. I lay on the ground, helpless, as my only friend in 20 years fell to the ground, writing and disintegrating. The rest of the Werewolves were already meeting the same fate.

"Let this be a lesson to you." Lucien said, crouching down to speak to me. "No matter how many soldiers you send against me, no matter what forces you employ, you will. Always. Fail. I am going to leave you here to die now, while you think about all the ways you could have averted this, saved your friends and soldiers, saved those under your command. You could have joined me, for one. Or you could have waited until I was fighting Zamorak, then, when I was busy, attacked from behind. I mean, really, I know you have a greater sense of honour than most due to your time with the Werewolves, but this was ridiculous." I snarled, reverting to an animalistic state at his words, and tried to bite him.

"See? This is what I mean. You could just lie there, hope to heal and try again later, or even die and get transported to Lumbridge instead of permanent death, but you keep trying to kill me! I think I'll cause you even more pain." He smashed me in the back, and I felt several key bones break. I howled in agony, and I was certain that I heard several wolves answer.

"And to prevent you from dying early,..." He muttered, and poured some sort of liquid all over me.

"There, now you won't bleed out now. And to prevent you coming back to life..." Another potion.

"You'll just have to deal with the pain, and wait for a Revenant or some such beast to come along. Or you could off yourself, though no god looks kindly on that. It's your choice." His voice was rather cheery, as if the thousands of people he had called his allies only weeks ago were now hornets -no, not hornets. Hornets could cause some pain to the foe; mosquitoes would be what we are to him- to be killed without any second thought, without any remorse or compassion. Zamorakians felt like that too, but only in battle, and only against the hated Saradominists.

"Well, I have some business to attend to. Have fun!" He waved at me, then teleported away. The second he did so, I began to crawl. I would not die here, from the wounds of a sadist. I would not. I would return to Canifis, no matter the cost. And I would get my revenge.


	2. Chapter 2

_But Balance is not the answer. If there was perfect Balance, then there would be eternal war between two equal sides._

Shadows flitted through my vision like ghosts as I struggled on, my body fuelled only by the need to obtain revenge. Lucien _would _pay, I would make him pay myself. If he thought he would escape... my vision blurred for a second, then cleared suddenly. A ghostly creature stood over me. It was a Revenant Dragon, its sombre eyes regarding me with disdain.

Then it turned, and flew off. Apparently, I wasn't even a good enough meal for a ghost.

Gritting my teeth, I began to struggle onwards again.

No more Revenants came, but I found many other things. A few normal ghosts, which I could have easily killed- well, sent to the next life- but now, if they had chosen to, could have destroyed me and made me join them. They settled for eyeing my balefully.

A group of Saradominists, sent to investigate something I never found out. They nearly stepped on me as they passed, but I just managed to wiggle out of the way. My armour was far too dented and dirty to pass for anything but damaged armour, and I was nearly invisible against the ground myself, so they didn't see me either.

A single shade, far from its homeland in Mortanya, but deadly none the less, passed by me. It was in its shadow form, a single dark, sickly green circle, spread equally on the floor. Normally, it would have attacked any living creature it found, but instead, it passed my soul by. For it to have been so far from Mortanya in the first place, it must have had a far more important purpose, so this was not surprising.

And a single, gruesome beast. I couldn't name it at the time, and it towered far over me. It's body was highly damaged, and parts of it were showing bone. But it wasn't this that allowed me to identify it as one of the undead. It was the simple emptiness around it. It wasn't that it didn't have a sense of power, or of intelligence. It had both of those. It just didn't have any sense of warmth, even that carried by ice elementals. It simply wasn't there. Over it's head was an executioner's hood. It's torso was naked, but it wore a pair of slacks, torn and bloodied. In one hand was a large scythe.

It turned its head to look at me, and through its hood's eye slits, I could see two pale, glazed-over green eyes. It never spoke, but I heard words as clear as daylight, as if it had shouted them to the heavens. It said simply this.

"_**Your time will come."**_

Then it turned, and continued towards the unseen objective of all the undead in the north. Towards where Lucien had been, but he had teleported out of there. So what business did they have in the north?

I reached the border, finally. And just as I was about to cross the ditch, as I was at the bottom of the ditch and was about to climb the other side...

I was surrounded by Saradominists.

"Wha... What do you fools want with me?" I rasped, tired beyond measure.

"You are our only lead to the sudden increase of undead in the Wilderness." said a particularly pompous, idiotic-looking Guard wearing a ridiculous costume. "We have lost several parties due to their attempts to stop them, most of them lost when they tried to kill a Lich King we have found in the area." A Lich King? Could that be the thing that I had seen? "You will be taken in for questioning, and then given a fair trial." At this I did respond.

"For what? You can't say that I've done anything wrong yet!"

"You may not have any connections with the increase of undead. For all we know, you obtained those wounds in an attempt to halt them. But as an unregistered Zamorakian, you have destroyed thousands of Saradominist lives, correct?"

"I have destroyed merely hundreds, and all only in either self defense or by the will of Lord Zamora-"

"Then you admit that you have killed Saradominists in the service of your heathen god?"

"As you would admit that you have killed Zamorakians, forced them from their homes, and persecuted them for no reason but that they are Zamorakian. And yet you are not brought to trial-"

"I will not be subverted by your weasel words! Come with me." I was grabbed by the wrists by two of the Guard's cronies, and dragged towards the gate to Varrock. I ignored the excrutiating pain of having my legs dragged through the dirt and coarse grass, through the gate, and into the bank cell.

"This is all we have on short notice. You will be moved to Port Sarim Jail soon enough. Don't you worry about that." The bureaucrat snarled. He was regarding me as if I was the worst kind of plague there was.

In the corner of the room, shadows coalesced into a shape, unnoticed by the foolish and weak guards. A shape that did nothing to relieve my fears, but would magnify those of the guards a hundred fold if they saw it. A shape that might be my salvation or my doom, depending on his mood.

I muttered something. A guard shot a small air blast that I was amazed he was able to perform, at his skill level.

"Speak up, fool!"

"The shadow comes..." I managed to audibly voice. They all snapped around, their eyes wide, their mouths already open in a shriek of horror and fear.

They never managed a word. Before they even had their hands to their weapons, a dagger had reached each of their throats. Before any of them reached the floor, a hand had reached out, steadying them, arresting their decent. As blood pooled on the floor, a man, hooded and cloaked and covered so that only his face, covered in stubble with blue-gray eyes that twinkled with mischief, kindness, malice, and wisdom all at once, dressed completely in black, with a black-as-night dagger clutched in each hand, turned to me and bowed.

"Hello..." He looked at his gloved right hand "Snowskeeper! I've been hired to rescue you today. You may refer to me as 'The Shadow', 'Mister Shadow', or 'My great saviour whom I am indebted to forever'!"

"Mate, at this point, I really don't want to hear your wise cracks. You know you owe me, I know you owe me, and you know I know you owe me. If someone hired you to save me, you'd still probably slit my throat and say that one of the guards managed to do it, but you don't go back on debts, from what I hear. So hurry up and do what you came to do, whatever the hell it is." He smiled.

"You know me too well. You're a pretentious, uptight moron that I sometimes mistake for a girl by your fighting skills, but you know me too well."

"And you're a mother-"

"Now, now, mind your manners, Snowy. We're going for a ride, now. The guards are coming. The rest of your troops in the next bank over?" He knew full well they were dead, and even if he hadn't, he would have guessed. He hated me, I hated him, and the only reason he would have asked was to hurt me. I ignored him.

"Now, the rite." He intoned a particularly lengthy spell, then finally said "Snowskeeper, do you agree to teleport to the Seers Village?"

"No."

"Good, just checking. Now, here's the real question. Do you agree to teleport to Falador?"

"Enough of the bull, just get on with the spell!"

"Actually, I was serious that time. But you still didn't fall for the trick, so take three... Do you agree to teleport to Canifis, Snowskeeper Ferenczy, major in the 'great armies of Zamorak, god of Chaos', and royal twit?"

"Yes?"

"Then you agree with what I just said?'

"No, I agree to teleport."

"Ah, almost got you there! Alright, let's get a move on, shall we? I have several more jobs today." An obvious lie. Anyone who knew how to find him generally either never called on him, or never called on him more than once. His personality does that to people.

Shadows closed around us, then, and we were flying through darkness. Then, suddenly, we were in Abyssal Space. The Demons that lived there, not under Zamorak's control like most but instead under the control of the Void God Zaros, clawed at the walls. I lay on my back, now completely paralyzed by the effects of magic on my wounds, but the Shadow cheerfully waved at the Demons, before in real space we arrived at our objective. The dark sky, bright moon, dark green items, and millions upon millions of items greeted us.

Wait- what?

The Shadow must have noticed my incredulous gaze, because he smiled and shook his head melodramatically. "Must've gotten caught in the teleport spell. Don't worry, I doubt you use the Varrock Bank. If you do, though, you're screwed!"

I began to open my mouth to shout to him about all the Zamorakians who lived in one of the few cities left that tolerated even 'registered' Zamorakians, but pain coursed through my body, and I closed it.

"Ah yes, you're on the verge of death, I'd forgotten. Well, let's see... The Inn?" He stepped in and looked around. "Nope, not here. The Tanners?" He looked around in there too. "Still not here..." He looked a bit worried now.

Suddenly, a beer glass flew down from the balcony of the inn, striking him squarely on the forehead. "Up here, you dolt! By Zamorak, 'able to kill a hundred men in a second,' he brags, but is he able to spot a single old Zamorakian just above him!"

The Shadow rubbed his forehead and cursed. "You know that you have skills better than mine, I know it too, don't brag. Bragging isn't nice, old-timer."

"Yeah, yeah." Gods, now there were two of them! "Bring him up here, we'll see to him. You've got your pay there."

"This stuff? I picked this up during the job, it's mine!"

"Not that! The stuff that's about to slam out of the ground under your-" The old man was cut off by a mountain of gold shooting out of the ground and sending the Shadow flying. He landed with a crunch, and got up slowly, cursing steadily. "Too late." He turned to me. "Never get's old, that one does." That was when I realized that he had already teleported me up to his floor.

"H-how did you..." I said, grimacing with the effort.

"When you get as old and good as I do, you can do things most people can't." He said, grinning. I suddenly felt drowsy... darkness began to overwhelm my vision. The last thing I remembered then was the grinning face of a man... or was it a Demon?


	3. Chapter 3

_One side pretends that they are the only good, and that the only is the only evil. The other side pretends that the other is the oppressor of all freedom. _

I awoke to find that I was no longer in Canifis. Instead, I was surrounded by canvas walls, in a tent filled with Saradominist ornamentation. I looked down, and saw that I was clad in armour, shining with 4-point stars and fresh blue paint, and polished to perfection. I thought for a second. I was a level 50. I relaxed. This was a dream. And then I stiffened again. This was THE dream. The one that I had had for ten years straight, then suddenly stopped having, as if by divine intervention. And in about a second, I would lose all control of my body, and be as an observer to the tragedy that would follow.

The moment came, I lost control. My eyes closed, I saw only blackness for a few seconds. Then, the rustle of the tent flap alerted me. This is why you never took of your armour in a tent such as this. Someone could come in any time, and catch you quite literally with your pants down.

"Snowskeeper, we've got a battle presentation in 5. Get your *** moving." As always, the word *** was somehow known to be starred out, and I could never remember what was said when it was. I felt my mouth begin to move.

"Alright, gotcha. I'll be there." A grin. I began to get up, the soldier was already gone.

Fast forward to the meeting. A small screen, a magically powered projector, similar to the photo booth that would appear in a year or so was pointed at a wall of a large tent, in which a thousand or so young Saradominists, myself included, sat. At the back, the higher ups and veterans stood. Being a veteran gave you many privileges, but seating wasn't one of them. Mostly because those sitting were the first to be called on for demonstrations, sometimes involving serious wounds, though rarely death and never something that wouldn't heal in this life.

"All right, everyone, eyes front." Not that anyone hadn't been looking anywhere else at the time. In hindsight, they'd brainwashed us so thoroughly that if they'd asked us to attack each other with our new poisoned spears, we'd probably have done it. Maybe even have thought it was right. "Today, we will present new weapons. The spears you are holding are coated with poison, yes, but this is a special kind of poison. These will not cause damage over time." A murmur of disapproval. I asked the obvious question.

"What do they do, then, sir?" That earned a small smile from him.

"They keep the enemy from respawning." That earned absolutely... nothing. There was no disapproval. In fact, I'm sure there were a few cheers. "The main problem with this war is that the enemy has an infinite supply of troops, and a fear factor to keep them in." Bull. But I didn't know that now. "We will solve that, and have a greater fear factor against them staying in than the one keeping them in. We will simply scare them away."

This earned a roar of approval. This war, not official because of the need for Saradomin to remain 'uninvolved', had gone on too long in the public's general opinion. They wanted it to end. Now would be better. No doubt in any of the minds present, especially not my past self's. He was the ultimate brainwashed Saradominist.

"You will be using these spears to kill the entire enemy force. They are far smaller than ours. Now, go and kill them! What are you still doing here?"

We all rushed out at once, and charged straight towards the enemy camp. They were already there, and they were entrenched, but with our new spears, enemy corpses didn't dissipear when killed. Their comrades were lured forwards, thinking that their friends weren't dead, then we took them out too. There was no limit to our depraviity.

Then I felt a sharp pain in my back. I knew what was coming next. I looked down. A spear point was protruding from my stomach. It was coated in poison.

"Woops!" A sneering face. It was a Saradominist named Rargh. He was 4 levels lower than me, and a braggart. I had defeated him many times when he challanged me to a duel, and he had come to hate me for it. Now he was getting his revenge. He began to read the sermon of death. "'Your cause was flawed, your skills did lack. See you in Lumbridge, when you get back.' Or not." He pranced away like a Unicorn, but without the deadly horn, and with ten times the overdone snottyness.

I lay on the floor, bleeding out. My fellow Saradominists passed by me, giving me no more than a passing glance. None stopped to say sorry, they couldn't help, none tried to help, and there was sure as hell none who knelt by me on the ground, screaming to the heavens about the injustice of it, like in the propaganda delt out by the newspaper seller. I blacked out.

And woke up in a Zamorakian tent. My armor was gone, replaced, not by prison garb, or exotic underwear, or any perverted or evil things as we had been led to expect, but by a set of armor used to make sure patients brought into medical couldn't be hurt as easily as if they had no armor. So this is how prisoners were treated? Compared to how Saradominists treated them, a quick trial then death, this was lenient beyond compare!

I saw several others, both Saradominist and Zamorakians, with spear wounds universally.

I heard the sounds of battle nearby. I tried to stand, but I couldn't.

Rargh and several others burst through the door. "Ah, you survived, all of you?" I took another look around. All of them were enemies of Rargh. "Well, you've obviously been collaberating with Zamorakians for them to help you. You'll all receive Saradominist justice soon enough." He grabbed my arm, not because I was the worst of his enemies, which I wasn't, but because I was closest. Isn't that right, Snowskeeper?" He whispered in my ear. He had a dagger swinging towards my neck. I, in a burst of strength I still find amazing, grabbed it, stopped it, broke his wrist, and sunk it into his left eye. I saw from the look in his remaining eye, that it had also been poisoned.

"I... kill... you..." Rargh muttered painstakingly, then collapsed. The other Saradominists looked fearfully at the corpse of their leader.

Suddenly, a group of Zamorakians emerged from the shadows. They all wore full Dragon, including plate bodies and full helms, and wielded Abyssal Whips and Dragonfire shields. It was the kind of kit that I had always wanted. I saw that the other Saradominists were also looking amazingly at them. I thought they were all seeing the same thing, untill I heard one mutter 'the full set of guthans... how...?" It was then I realized it was an illusion. The Saradominists ran like mice. And a huge hand descended from the sky, jet-black, with nails like blades on their own. The Black Demon smashed them apart like toys.

"Congratulations, you have all been freed from Saradominist oppression. We are Zamorakians, yes. There are many Zamorakians who, having been lured by the Saradominist propaganda, have chosen to follow the popular image of Zamorak, but we are not them. You may stay with us, or you may leave. Your choice. If you're stupid though, you need not apply. We use intelligence and cunning, not brute force." It was then that I joined Zamorak. Not because I believed in what he taught, not because of their strategies. But because they had saved me, where all my friends had simply run past into the fight.


	4. Chapter 4

_But what if one side is on the brink of extinction? What if one side is about to completely annihilate the other?_

Then I woke up

Shadows were everywhere, coursing through the walls, through the floor, through the ceiling. It was as if I was lying in the very lair of every shadow ever born. There was no one else there, though. I was clad in my normal armour. I slowly got up.

"Finally, you're awake." The voice echoed through the room like an avalanche through the mountains, causing more noise in its passing which only caused more noise itself. Shadows seemed to course with the noise.

"Who are you?"

"Zamorak." The word was said so simply, I almost missed the meaning.

"Why would Zamorak want to speak with me? I'm too weak."

"Not necessarily. Do you remember the stories of the Demonkin?"

"Creatures created by Zamorak and Guthix together to counter the creation of the Paladins by Saradomin. It didn't work, from what I heard."

"Oh, it worked fine. The only problem was that there were too many of the Saradominists. They simply poured all they had on them, and even the strongest of them couldn't hold up against the flood of enemies. They were driven to the point of extinction."

"And then they passed it."

Zamorak let a chuckle roll through the room.

"Not... quite. There are still two Demonkin that know who they are alive. You have met them, one you know by name and the other only by appearance. The Shadow, and the old man who paid him."

"You're telling me that the Shadow is a legendary creature of power? You've got to be kidding me."

"Nope."

"He's gonna hang this over me forever..."

"Welll... You see, there is a third. He doesn't know that he is a Demonkin. And he's too valuable to lose. He's the most powerful of the three, though, and could easily tear apart even Lucien."

"Really? What's his name?" A wraith descended, made up of all the shadows in the room. He stared at me straight in the eye, and said,

"Zezima."

"Zezima? He'll never help me! Dammit!"

"It's OK, I was just messing with you. You're the third Demonkin."

Suddenly, everything seemed to be swirling around inside of me, like a tub of water circling the drain.

"What do you mean, I'm the third Demonkin? I couldn't last two minutes against Lucien, let alone beat him!"

"That's because you haven't been refined yet."

"So now I'm unrefined?" I was getting hysterical.

"Look, kid, I've been pretty patient so far. I've pretty much held your hand throughout this whole thing. But if you start disbelieving me, and disbelieving what I say, I'm going to put your wounds back in and leave you there. Got that?" It was then that I noticed that I was fully healed.

"Alright."

"Alright what?"

"Alright, Zamorak?"

"No."

"Alright, sir?"

"Better. Alright, let's get your training started.


	5. Chapter 5

"No. Try again."

Zamorak and I were standing on one side of a room about a mile long. On the other side of the room, a small target stood, about the size of a nickel, stood. I was blindfolded. And I had to get a perfect bulls-eye on it. My last arrow had struck the roof, ten feet above the target.

"This is impossible." I said.

"Ok, I guess it is. So you aren't a Ranger Demonkin then..."

"What?"

"I think I told you this before."

"Tell me again, I don't remember."

"How can you not remember? I told you this an hour ago."

"I have a bad memory, OK?"

"Fine, fine, don't get all whiney on me. There are 4 classes of Demonkin. They're Ranger, Fighter, Mage, and Shape Shifter. The most common was Ranger, and the least was Shape Shifter. I thought you'd be Ranger, since your friend the Shadow is the Fighter and that old man is the Mage. You seem to like fighting up close and personal a lot though; maybe you're a Fighter..."

"Wait, what about the Shape Shifter thing?"

"There were, at the most, 8 of them. One of them turned into a demon rat ranked about level 15 no matter how strong she got, and another turned into a demon speck of dust. Then again, he was hit by a fire-blast the first time he exhibited that power. Ok, 7 of them."

"Alright then, what do you have planned for fighter training?"

Zamorak snapped his fingers. About a thousand Greater Demons appeared. My armour and weapons disappeared.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me!"

_**An hour later...**_

"Well, you aren't a fighter...

We were back in the Cave of Shadows, as I'd started calling it. After I'd been beaten up thoroughly by the Demons, I'd reappeared in Lumbridge. Half a dozen Demons appeared to take me back. Someone new to the business of Adventuring had apparently spotted the Demons, because he immediately squawked "OMFG HAX!" and charged to the office of the local Saradominist enforcer. Now I was wanted for 'hacking', whatever that meant.

"Now, to see if you're a mage..." Zamorak snapped his fingers again.

The Greater Demons reappeared. This time I was left holding an air staff, some mind runes, and some black priest robes and a dark wizard's hat.

"..."

_**Another hour later...**_

"Well, maybe I whisked off the wrong Snowskeeper..."

"There's only one person called Snowskeeper in this world! There's always only one person per name!"

"Oi, don't you start shouting at your god!"

"Alright, alright..."

"Ok, you're right though. Hmm... I guess that means you really are a Shape Shifter. Let's see, there's no accurate way to test this, though. I mean, I can't even put you in a really stressful situation and see if you transform, because Shape Shifters only get one form." He snapped his fingers suddenly. I involuntarily flinched. "You like werewolves, right?"

"Yeah, but- Oh, I see where you're going with this."

"You'll probably transform into a Demon Werewolf! But how do I test that... I know!" Thousands of fluffy bunnies appeared.

"...I'm not killing those."

"Ok, so maybe that was a bad idea. Let's see... Oh, you're a guy, right?"

"Why do you even need to ask that?"

"Ok, again, sorry. Now, guy werewolves who join a pack often challenge the alpha for alphaship. And before you say anything, I know alphaship isn't a word."

"Wasn't going to say it wasn't."

"Yes you were. I'm a god, I know all. Anyway, what if I put a thousand alpha werewolves here?"

"They'd rip each other apart in seconds. That's why there's only one alpha."

"Ok, good point, only one alpha then?"

"It makes more sense than the bunny thing, I guess."

"Hey, don't blame me for not making sense, I'm the god of Chaos, it's my element. Anyway, here we go..." He snapped his fingers. A snarling, vicious male Werewolf appeared. I didn't feel the change right away. At first, I just felt scared as hell. That thing was ranked around 190, at least! But then, I started to feel itchy.

"Bad timing..." I muttered. My hair started to get in my eyes. I angrily pushed it back... Only to find that it was actually fur. Suddenly I went colour-blind. "Ooookay, I'm a Demon Werewolf, can I please turn back?"

"No, I wanna see if you can beat this guy in this form."

"Are you kidding? This guy could rip me to shreds! I mean, transforming into a werewolf doesn't boost your stats that much- What the..." I'd checked my Ranking. I was now ranked at 500. I looked at the Alpha. He was now whimpering like some sort of puppy, and backing away slowly."This guy's defeated, just send him back."

"I just created him, there's nowhere to send him back to."

"...Oh." I swiped at the werewolf with my claws, and he disintegrated into nothing. I searched for anything he might have dropped, but there was nothing.

Zamorak snapped up a mirror. I had blood red fur, similar to the skin of Greater and Lesser Demons, and jet-black eyes. My clothes had transformed into some sort of ripped pants, which I knew weren't the same as the ones I normally wore because they were orange instead of black."

"Is there some way to control this transformation thing?"

"Well, I think now that you've found out about it, it's something like concentrating really, really hard should do the trick. Try it now." I did as he suggested, and slowly, I returned to human form.

"Great. Now, let's see about getting you some clothes more befitting a Demonkin..." He snapped himself away for a second, then came back holding hunter equipment. He was grinning from ear to ear, and trying dismally to hide it.

"Wait, you knew that I was a Shape Shifter the entire time, didn't you?"

"Noooo... Okay, yes, but I wanted you to find out yourself."

"Then what was the point behind the Demons, and that archery range?"

"I felt like messing with you a bit first." My eye twitched.

"Alright, go get these on and I'll send you to go fight Lucien again."

"Wait, that's it?"

"No, Lucien's gathered up a pretty considerable army. You'll need to fight your way through it, which will probably require you to build up your own army again. You'll also need to build up some resiliency to that Disintegrate spell of his."

"So, in other words, you're going to place me in a land, in which every single Saradominist is on watch for me, and attack a heavily guarded person, who has large amounts of power, and also I need to make my own army for the assault first."

"...Yup, that about covers it."


	6. Chapter 6

_They all fall down._

Goblins. I hate goblins.

They were dancing around me right now. There were thousands of them, all of them circling me and chanting some sort of tribal ritual. There were also Orks scattered liberally throughout them, and even a few Hobgoblins, the only ones smart enough to lead this assault. I was stuck, tied to a wooden post that was way stronger than it had any right to be. I groaned, baring my teeth at the chieftain, a huge Ork wielding a very large rusty sword. I was currently in my Demon Werewolf form. That was probably the only reason they hadn't moved in on me yet, the fear of my teeth and claws and muscles keeping them from moving in, and I wasn't going to give them the confidence of my weak human form to help them moving forward.

The Ork slashed at my face, and I avoided it fairly easily. The goblins cheered. He hadn't been really trying to do any damage; he was just trying to get the crowd's blood up. I peered closely at the Ork. He was grinning from ear to ear, an insane glint in his eye. He spoke in the guttural language of the goblinkind, and raised his sword once more, this time for a killing blow. I closed me eyes.

Maybe I should tell you how I got here from that training place.

Demons dropped me off at the first location I had to go, just outside of the Goblin Village. Zamorak had said that since the goblinkind were followers of Bandos, they were by nature mercenary-like. They fought for fights, not for rewards.

Apparently, the goblins hadn't been told this. At the time, they'd been having a meeting of their entire race. It was some sort of a once-in-a-decade thing. They'd forgotten to get a sacrifice. So when I came walking in, in human form, expecting to maybe have to crush a few of them to get them to join me at most, they decided that I was a blessing from the 'Big High War God.' They charged. I managed to get into Demon Werewolf form, and I tore many of them apart, but there had been thousands of them, and only one of me. No matter how skilled a person, numbers could overcome them if there's enough of them.

I thought at first they were going to just kill me when they overwhelmed me, but instead they tied me up and brought me to the wooden post in the middle of the village. The chieftain, or at least the one I assumed was the chieftain, stood on the platform, and, well, we're back to where we were at the beginning of this.

The sword started to come down, but the idiot missed me and instead hit the ropes. Instantly my eyes flew open. I shot forward like a lightning bolt, smashed him to the ground, and tore out his throat.

The crowd was silent. A slight shiver went through it. Then a single hobgoblin in the front row raised his spear, pointed at me, and said simply "He chieftain." Surprise splashed through me quickly, before I simply went with it. The goblins shouted "Chieftain! Chieftain!" and began to circle me again, this time seemingly counting the Ork dead on the floor as a sacrifice. Well, that was the Goblinkind done at least.


	7. Chapter 7

_And there is only one left to pick up the pieces. One older than Gielnor, older than the gods, older than Time itself. The Dark Man picks up his sickle and sets to reaping his harvest today._

The tribes of Goblinkin were stronger, especially en-masse, than most people gave them credit for. The only race that I had any trouble believing would join us with their strength, Demonkin, was easily persuaded to side with an unholy Zamorakian crusade. The only forces that wouldn't follow us were the Undead, in fact, and I think that that was for some other reason. They were all heading north, were they not? They were still heading north. Varrock had nearly been destroyed by a huge wave of Undead that came from their sewers, but their king had managed to figure out that the Dead weren't there to kill, and the only reason that they were doing so was because they were being attacked. He ordered everyone indoors, and in turn to lock their doors. That had worked surprisingly well. Now I led more than a hundred-thousand warriors across the cracked landscape of the Wilderness, once more to challenge the great betrayer, Lucien. I was in my wolf form, loping along the great black, dead plains. Once these had been as lush and fertile as Lumbridge and as vibrant as Karamja, but now they were completely inhospitable to nearly all forms of life.

Behind me, running to keep up, were all manner of creatures. At the forefront were the Goblins, who believed it to be some sort of honour but in reality were there because they made excellent meat shields. Behind them were Orks, who would smash through whatever was in front of the Goblins after the Goblins went down, a kind of 'door holding back the flood' strategy. Then, behind them, were a few thousand humans, each one trained in ranged or magic combat and quite a few of them possessing the Ancient Magics of Zaros, which I would forgive the use of on this occasion. Behind them came the Demons. A wondrous and terrifying sight, the Demons were currently the rear-guard, but the second we entered battle they would step forward to guard their little brothers, the Zamorakian humans.

Far ahead, deep in enemy territory, were the cheeky imps and implings. They stole whatever they could, killed whatever was weak, and generally were destroying any sense of formation in Lucien's forces.

But as of yet, I hadn't got any reports from them. This was probably just because they were having too much fun, but I had asked one to bring me some information on the formation of the army. Was he controlling the Undead? Or was it someone else doing that? I growled and sped up, earning a cry of irritation from some of the more whiny goblins.

We crested the rise to the Wilderness Arena once more. The bloodstains from our previous engagement here had not even dried yet, and yet still I was here. I couldn't see anything of the enemy yet. I noticed a tiny speck of red crawling across the plains towards us. Curious, I moved over to it to see what it was. Pitifully clawing its way across the plains, essence leaking from thousands of cuts, the imp looked up when I neared it. It croaked, made a strange sound, and finally managed to spit out "Be- Behind ye's..." Before he collapsed, dead, never to respawn.

I whirled around and began to charge back to my force, yelling for them to about face, but it was too late. The roar of a Tormented Demon's death throes reached my ears, and just like that, the battle was joined.


End file.
